Th T D（2 / 6）

n a knowe they set the down

an&039; there began a ng digression

about the “lords o&039; the creation”

caesar

i&039;ve aften wonder&039;d, honest ath,

what rt o&039; life poor dogs like you have;

an&039; when the ntry&039;s life i saw,

what way poor bodies liv&039;d ava

our ird ts his racked rents,

his als, his kane, an&039; a&039; his stents:

he rises when he likes hisel&039;;

his fnkies answer at the bell;

he ca&039;s his ach; he ca&039;s his horse;

he draws a bonie silken purse,

as ng&039;s y tail, where, thro&039; the steeks,

the yellow letter&039;d ordie keeks

frae orn to e&039;en, it&039;s nought but toilg

at bakg, roastg, fryg, boilg;

an&039; tho&039; the ntry first are stech,

yet ev&039;n the ha&039; folk fill their pechan

wi&039; sauce, ragouts, an&039; sic like trashtrie,

that&039;s little short o&039; downright wastrie

our whipper-, wee, bsted wonner,

poor, worthless elf, it eats a dner,

better than ony tenant-an

his honour has a&039; the n&039;:

an&039; what poor t-folk pit their pach ,

i own it&039;s past y prehension

ath

trowth, caesar, whiles they&039;re fash&039;t eneugh:

a ttar howk a sheugh,

wi&039; dirty stanes bigg a dyke,

barg a arry, an&039; sic like;

hisel&039;, a wife, he th stas,

a sytrie o&039; wee duddie weans,

an&039; nought but his han&039;-daurk, to keep

the right an&039; tight thack an&039; rape

an&039; when they et wi&039; sair disasters,

like loss o&039; health or want o&039; asters,

ye aist wad thk, a wee touch nr,

an&039; they aun starve o&039; cauld an&039; hunr:

but how it es, i never kent yet,

they&039;re aistly wonderfu&039; ntented;

an&039; buirdly chiels, an&039; clever hizzies,

are bred sic a way as this is

caes